


The Beginning of Panther Squad

by MandoKain



Series: Aliit [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Found Family, Gen, Minor Violence, best way to meet new brothers? punching people, the Click
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 11:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20191432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandoKain/pseuds/MandoKain
Summary: We meet the heart of the clan, Cain Toqema, along with the first two members of Aliit Toqema and what would become known as Panther Squad. Like all good things, it starts with a bar fight.





	The Beginning of Panther Squad

There was a heavy thud. They sighed and ducked slightly.

The evening had started normally enough. Cain had come in for a breather and a drink, something fizzy and fruity with no alcohol in it. They were a little done and a little bored and had wanted a little space, so they’d told Kell they were finding the nearest ‘establishment’ and would be back later. They’d had a few quiet drinks, trying a couple of different bubbly things as they looked around at the patrons of the place; it was never a bad idea to know who was in your vicinity. They hadn’t caught the beginning of the exchange, having been to focused on trying to identify a presence with a Force signature both familiar and unknown, but the raised voices had caught their attention. Someone shouted something about the GAR and scum, and a familiar face (bar a jagged nose) had responded. The thud had been the original antagoniser hitting the ground as the muscled clone decked him and laid him out. Just like that, the room exploded. It didn’t take much to start bar fights in places like this. The staff were not paid enough to handle it, and it was considered too early to hire bouncers or security. The only thing for it was to let everyone go at it until they wore themselves out. Cain sat at the bar, lekku pulled close against their back and out of the way, ducking the occasional flying debris and watching the burly clone with the broken nose fend off one attacker after another. Just to see if they could, Cain located the odd presence again, expecting to find it somewhere in the fighting. It wasn’t. The presence, when they located it, belonged once again to that familiar face, this time thinner slightly, the one bearing it leaner, their power stored differently. They seemed to be ignoring the fight, as they tucked into their food. Cain would have been hesitant to eat here, but soldiers would eat anything put in front of them. Clones couldn’t afford to be choosy, under most circumstances. Cain got up, going towards the small table which appeared to be the only quiet spot in the raging room. The Force did the work of keeping them from being hit, a protective bubble formed around them. As they walked, a bottle sailed across the room, smashing just over the leaner vod’s head. He stopped. Cain stopped, watching him. He swallowed, then lifted the butter knife in his right hand. He squinted slightly, staring across the room, before the butter knife was a blur of silver. It impaled itself through the hand of a man across the room, who yelped in pain. A fork sprouted through the hand and into the wall beside the knife, and the man howled. The clone stood, and Cain moved over to join him, giving a short, military nod.

“Hope you don’t mind backup.”

“Not at all.” He nodded in return, recognition and welcome in one. They passed him a folded knife, and he clicked it into place, feeling it lock and weighing it in his hand appreciatively. Cain drew their own blades. “Shall we?” A wry grin pulled the clone’s face askew, and Cain nodded again. The two of them whirled through the bar, getting to the clone who had thrown the first punch.

“Vod,” said the lean one, and the muscled one grinned.

“Vod. Burc’ya be jie?”

“Burc'ya vaal burk'yc, burc'ya veman,” answered the other, and Cain smiled, knowing the phrase. The rest of the bar had gathered around the three of them. They turned, backs to each other.

“Hwa mhi narir ibic?” Cain grinned. The first man attacked.

Later, as the three of them walked out after the fight victorious, the fork-thrower turned to Cain.

“Blink. Nicely done.”

“Cain. And yourself.” They nodded to the puncher. “You two know each other by chance?”

“Nope. Recoil,” the clone introduced himself. He held out his hand, and Cain clasped his arm and shook in the Mandalorian fashion, repeating the gesture when Blink held out his arm as well. “Accident. Lucky one, though. You seem familiar with clones, if I say so myself,” Recoil said curiously. Cain shrugged.

“I should hope so. Lived with ‘em for long enough.” That got some raised eyebrows.

“You fight like a warrior, not a soldier,” Blink pointed out. Eyes narrowing again, he asked, “you a Jedi?”

“Ex-Jedi,” Cain shrugged again. “Not anymore.”

“You a Commander?” Recoil sounded equally suspicious. Cain scoffed, reassuring them.

“Don’t kriffin’ call me that. I’m Cain. _Just_ Cain.”

“Fair. Well, just Cain. Gal’gala?” Blink offered, relaxing now. He looked over at Recoil briefly, and received a slight nod and a smile in return.

“Sure. Though, I think maybe we should look in a different place.”

“There’s a café down the street,” Recoil offered. He led the way.

Over pastries and highly sugared caf, they talked. “Former heavy gunner, if you couldn’t tell,” Recoil told them. “I was in the 343rd.” He was wearing a heavy leather jacket and cargo pants, which Cain could tell held just about anything he might find useful.

“Nowhere near me then,” Blink shrugged. “I was a Commando.” That explained the pinpoint accuracy with the fork, then. He was wearing a lighter outfit, designed with movement in mind, though his jacket also had enough pockets to hold anything he required. His boots were soft-soled, as opposed to Recoil’s, which would probably break bone if he kicked you with them. “And you, Mx. Former Commander?”

“I moved around,” they shrugged. “Swapped teachers and battalions, never really got a chance to form a bond with any particular crew. Have now though, sort of.” Recoil stared hard, and Cain explained about the New Dawn, and Black Company. Recoil and Blink listened, intrigued.

“I thought they were all–“

“KIA? So did I. But no, about twenty or so survived along with my friend Kell.” They didn’t include the bit about the year apart. “I’m glad of it. The fewer people lost to this, the better.”

Something in Recoil’s expression changed, just slightly, and Cain felt him relax a little in the Force. Recoil seemed to have settled on something, though they weren’t sure what, or why. Maybe he just liked that they didn’t approve.

Blink peered at them. “Why don’t you like Commander?”

“Why would I? That osik’s gotta be earned. I was never with anyone long enough to feel like I earned it. I was a teenager with no military experience, expected to lead troops far more knowledgeable than I was, into battles dictated and organised by arrogant, di’kut Jedi generals with basically no strategic ability or military training.” Cain shrugged. “I never bonded with anyone enough to have my own squad. I always wanted to, but I never got the chance.” They felt something in Blink click into place, too, that interesting settling in the Force again. But all he said was, “huh.”

Recoil asked the next question. “Do you think we could meet the vode on your ship?”

“Of course!” Cain smiled. They would absolutely be welcomed on the ship, and would almost certainly be allowed to stay if they asked. Cain liked the two of them. Heavy gunner and special ops. The two of them were definitely built differently. But the face was still the same. They smiled at the two, before sipping their caf again. Before they put the cup down, Recoil and Blink’s faces closed. They stood simultaneously and moved, each with a hand on a corner of Cain’s chair. They turned to see a startled Kell standing in front of the two clones. Recoil looked more than ready for another confrontation.

“Need something?” Blink said coolly. He flicked a glance at the sabre hanging just visible on Kell’s belt, his face hardening slightly. Cain looked between him, and Blink, back to Kell, then Recoil, then Kell again.

“Guys. This is Kell.”

“Oh.” They instantly stood down. “Whoops. Sorry.”

“Saw sabers and a walk with purpose, thought it might have been trouble,” Blink murmured. Cain stepped toward Kell, who still seemed not to know what to make of this.

“Kell, this is Recoil, and that’s Blink. We took out an entire bar together, it was pretty awesome, and then decided to have a chat.”

Recoil and Blink held out their hands to shake. The two of them appeared to be gauging him, but they must have been satisfied, because they sat back down and led the last seat for him. Kell gave Cain a wary look. The barest shift of a shoulder was all he received in response. They didn’t know what that was either. Kell looked between the two clones, one brawny and powerful, one smaller and giving off an air of danger all on his own, and then back at Cain. The Force didn’t lie; the mirroring was too strong to ignore. These two had _picked_ Cain. They had the beginnings of a crew.

**Author's Note:**

> You can learn more about these characters if you go through the “#my OCs” tag on my tumblr, @fromryloth-tocorellia. This is just kind of a way to keep all the little stories in one place. Occasional guest appearances from tumblr user @rogueclonesftw’s characters too!


End file.
